


Method to Madness

by SW221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:05:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SW221B/pseuds/SW221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Authors note. This is a continuation of a collaboration work I have done involving Sherlock and Seb. The Fan Fiction is called Checkmate and the URL for the whole thing is http://www.wattpad.com/story/36811643-checkmate. </p><p>Also inspired by Pretty Psyco Boy. That version of Seb is perfection </p><p>This is a one shot scene between the two. </p><p>Overview: What happens when Sherlock seeks comfort at the the tips of needles. The addiction reaches a critical level and Seb is forced to intervene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Method to Madness

Seb was feeling antsy. Not the normal day to day antsy. The bad gut feeling antsy. His relationship with Sherlock was strained at best. It had been only been a mere few weeks since his deal with Sherlock had been struck. Sherlock was eccentric, intense, and aloof. Seb couldn't help but be intrigued by his new associate. From what he knew, Sherlock was an addict, and John's betrayal had affected him more than he could fully express in words. Seb knew that a relapse was bound to happen soon, hence being so on edge.

What Seb didn't know was that the detective had already relapsed, he had done so to cope with pain of John's betrayal. Sherlock rarely showed any skin, but if he had, the sniper would have seen the very flesh wounds that remained from the sharp points of needles and razor blades. But Seb was completely oblivious to it. Oblivious, but Seb's instincts had saved his life at many different occasions. This instinct was a persistent buzz in the back of Seb's mind, guiding the man to go check up on the detective. Sherlock was in his room, with the door shut. Seb looks in the crack of the door to see the detective sitting on the bed, shirtless.

Sherlock's arm was displayed, underside up with a tourniquet tied around the elbow. Seb's eyes widen, as he sees a flash of the syringe in the detective's hand, about to be injected. Seb walks through the door without asking, "You might regret that you know. "

Sherlock looks up and the sniper can see the pale face and the deep rings under the detective's eyes. Seb strides over and snatches the syringe out of Sherlock's hand before the detective could protest. "You have no right." Sherlock snarled, eyes flashing. "I didn't sign up to be a sniper for a druggie. I have all the right. This is endangering our objective. " Seb growls right back. "Give it back. I need it." Sherlock rises up to try and get it back. Quicker than Sherlock could react he drops the syringe on the ground and crushes it with his boot, "Oops. "

"Get out." Sherlock barks, eyes narrowing. Seb can see the effects of the lack of drugs starting to affect the detective. Seb tries not to flinch at Sherlock's raised voice, "No. "

Sherlock rakes his shaking hands through his hair. "Fine." Sherlock tries to get around the sniper. But the detective cannot get around the wall of flesh. "Get out of my way, Moran." Sherlock commands. "No. I'm not your bitch that'll help you on this self destructive endeavor. No. " Seb says in a calm tone but there's venom beneath it.

Sherlock scoffs. "How cute. Why the hell do you care?" Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "You're endangering my life and freedom. If you overdose you know what will happen. " "Self preserving, that's encouraging." Sherlock shrugs, and tries to move past the sniper. "That's certainly not going to happen. " Seb's hand shoots out to grab Sherlock's forearm to prevent the detective to try and shoving him forcefully out of the way. Sherlock's breath sucks in in pain and Seb sees the wounds on the underside of Sherlock's arm. Seb's eyes flit from the thin cuts to Sherlock's eyes, saying nothing. He knew exactly what they were. Sherlock seems to be daring the sniper to say something, silently.

"You know, I know that things might not seem the brightest. And I'm sorry. But I do think that this is a distraction. Not a good one either. You're better off if you face the issue head on. " Seb says softly, sympathy in his voice. Sherlock yanks his arm from the sniper's grasp, but doesn't sneer at Seb's sympathy.

Sherlock wracks his hand through his hair again, the sniper can see the shiver as the detective's body starts to rebel. "You need to stop. You've reached your limit, Sherlock Holmes. " Seb says firmly.

"So?" Sherlock speaks a heartbreaking single word. "There is not a single person who cares about me. Not even Mycroft." Sherlock spat. Seb shakes his head, "Irrelevant. How do you know that no one cares about your health? How do you know, you the almighty genius, that no one. Not a single soul. Cares. " Seb locks his eyes with Sherlock's.

"It doesn't matter either way." Sherlock lets out a sigh. It didn't matter because the one person who mattered most to the detective was gone. Sherlock had always said that he didn't have a heart. That wasn't true. Sherlock did have a heart, but now it was broken, utterly and completely.

"It does. I know it does. I've been where you are and it does nothing to mope and shoot up or try to drink yourself to death. You and I both know that. " Seb growls. "So if you want to give up so easily be my guest. Just don't do it while I'm here. "

Sherlock eyes the sniper. 'Seb was only in it for the new life. I am only a means to an end. Of course.' Sherlock muses internally. "At least you have your wits. Respectful." Sherlock turns away to pace restlessly like a caged animal. "What do you mean?" Seb snaps. "Exactly what I said... You know what you want." Sherlock responds, more subdued as he paces back and forth.

Seb has a chance to really look at the detective, and Seb sees that Sherlock thinks that the sniper is just using the deal as a means to an end. Sherlock doesn't think that Seb has any intention for anything in this partnership, not even a friendship.

"You're wrong. God I love it when I'm right. High-five to me cause I've seen a flaw in the Consulting Detective's opinion of me. " Seb huffs, "Why must you think so lowly of me?"

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Sherlock shoots back. "I'd rather be seen as a human. Not just a hired hand. " Seb shrugs. "Are you not? You might be hired by yours truly, but I have yet to treat you as such. No I have not. Have I not treated you well? I gave you a nice room. I don't make you call me sir. You are not a hired hand." Sherlock responds. "Then do not speak to me as such. "

Sherlock says nothing more and continues to pace. Seb sees that the detective deteriorating due to the drugs no longer in his system and he is starting to twitch. Sherlock lets out a shuddering breath, his body starting to rebel despite his effort to keep it together. Sherlock's armor of ice is beginning to crack. Seb watches from nearby, ready to lend a hand when and if it's wanted. Sherlock hisses, low and loud. "You should at least sit. " Seb suggests.

"Don't tell me what to do." Sherlock whips around to snap at the sniper. Sherlock continues to pace, no longer himself in the haze of the withdrawal. "Wow. I can feel the love. " Seb says sarcastically. "Shut up." Sherlock jumps up and forcibly knocks over the nightstand. It falls over with a crash. Sherlock descends upon the contents to find what he's looking for, a razorblade.

Sherlock's expression is wild, no longer in control of himself. Seb launches forward and wraps his hand around Sherlock's throat. Seb exerts pressure and the both fall backwards in a tangle of limbs down onto the bed. Seb pins the detective down with his own bodyweight as Sherlock struggles and protests.

"Get off me." Sherlock yells and kicks at the sniper, attempting to free himself. "No. Stop this Sherlock!" Seb pins Sherlock's wrists to the bed with a feral growl, preventing the detective from landing a blow. Sherlock howls in in a sort of a crazed rage, flailing. Seb's grip is unyielding and the sniper must hold down the detective as Sherlock fully deteriorates.

Sherlock thrashes and sobs in agony as the waves of the pain come. Seb let's go of him, knowing that there's no use in it now. Sherlock, in his haze of pain, tries to escape forcing Seb to lock his arms around the detective's middle to hold detective in place against his chest. Seb's arms are like iron bars around the detective's middle, preventing Sherlock from hurting himself or the sniper.

Sherlock continues to thrash, despite being restrained. 'What do I do? Oh god. Fuck I hope this doesn't kill him' Seb thinks worriedly.

Sherlock struggles with the withdrawls for hours before at last going limp in the sniper's arms with a whimper. "Shhh. " Seb starts humming softly, "It's almost done. "

Sherlock responds with a groan and coughs painfully. Sherlock is limp, giving the sniper a chance to look down at the man in his arms. Gone is the previous venom and rage. In it's place is the real Sherlock, broken down and weak. "Aspirin?" Seb offers. Sherlock is too tired to respond and promptly passes out from exhaustion. Seb can feel Sherlock go limp against him. Seb gently sets Sherlock in the bed next to him and covers him up. The sniper has a chance to look things over, the detective actually looks peaceful. Seb resists the urge to cuddle up to the detective, wanting to help.

The detective's pitiful cries and whimpers through the withdrawal had tugged on heartstrings Seb didn't know he had. At least not anymore. Seb sighs and hugs his torso, he hated this of all things, seeing someone in such pain with no end to it. Sherlock had offered Seb a chance at a new start, so naturally the sniper at least cared about the detective's well being. Sherlock had thought the sniper didn't care any more for the detective other than completion of the deal. Wrong. How terribly wrong.

Sherlock shivers and turns into a tight ball. Seb sorts out his own confused thoughts looking down at the detective. Seb observes how vulnerable the detective looks. Seb can't help but feel a little protective. Seb makes sure the detective is warm and curled up and kicks his shoes off to lay in the bed next to Sherlock. The sniper intended to watch over his new associate, the detective needed someone to look after him. To care. Seb sighs and gets settled. Sherlock sleeps like death all through the day and the following night.

The next day Sherlock wakes up with a start and tries to move only to have pain shoot down his spine. Sherlock groans, the pain a reminder that he was very much alive despite his desires to be otherwise. "Stop. " Seb says softly and places a hand on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock looks up at the sniper, the hand is preventing Sherlock from attempting to get up. "Were you sitting there the whole time?" Sherlock asks softly, voice hoarse. "Yes." The rings under Seb's eyes say everything. Sherlock coughs, the sound is a horrifying rattle in the detective's' chest cavity. "Why?" Sherlock asks when the fit subdues. Seb hands Sherlock a glass of water, "I had no where else to go." Seb mutters. Sherlock lets out a horrifyingly dry sounding laugh, "I really am a means to an end to you. Good to know." Sherlock slaps Seb's hand away and tries to sit up. Seb lifts it just to see Sherlock sit up and cringe in pain. Sherlock bites his lower lip and sits up, back to the sniper.

"Painful huh?" Seb asks mockingly, crossing his arms. Sherlock doesn't give Seb the benefit of snarling back. Instead, Sherlock swings his legs over the foot of the bed and stands, ignoring the screech of protest his suffering body gives. Seb's brows raises, Sherlock might be arrogant and abrasive, but he was one tough sonofabitch. Most people would be in the fetal position crying for their mothers after a withdrawal like that. Sherlock walks surprisingly smoothly out of the room to get some water. Seb stands and stretches, following the detective. All the previous madness in the detective is gone, as if it had been burned away with the drugs. Sherlock is cold and steely, the sniper can no longer get a decent read on the man. "When can my conditioning process continue, Moran?" Sherlock asks softly, looking back at the sniper. Sherlock was resolved, he wanted to continue the progress of taking out the network. "As soon as you are fully recovered. " Seb is only mildly surprised by the change.

Seb reads between the lines of the tension in the detective. Sherlock was still obsessive to the point of destructive. The detective was changing one bad habit for another, the obliteration of the Consulting Criminal's network was the only thing that was keeping Sherlock alive, keeping him sane. Sherlock was desperate, desperate for redemption and revenge. Sherlock was willing to go to any length needed to kill Jim Moriarty, even if it took the detective down along with the Criminal. Sherlock was willing to beat himself up time and time again to get the job done. Seb recognized that look in Sherlock's eyes, it was the same the sniper himself saw when looking in the mirror. He and the detective were not so different when it came to their willingness to resort to violence in times of desperation.

Sherlock lets out a resigned sigh and turns away. "So be it." Sherlock says softly. "For now, would you like something to eat?" Seb keeps watching Sherlock in fear that he would collapse. Sherlock sways slightly, catching himself on the corner of the tabletop. The detective still looked like a simple breeze could floor him. "Yeah. I'm going to take the initiative and make you something. You. Will. Eat. " Seb growls the last bit before walking to the kitchen. Sherlock grunts softly and pops down in one of the table seats but not before grabbing a quilt off the couch to wrap himself up in. The experience of last night left him feeling cold and worn. Sherlock watches the sniper work, wondering what brought on this sudden protectiveness in his new associate.

Within minutes Seb places a plate with chicken and rice in front of Sherlock, accompanied by a mug of tea. "Eat, or i will tie you up and force feed you." Seb raises an eyebrow. Sherlock looks up at the sniper looming over him and honestly can't tell if that was a jest or not. "Okay, I get it." Sherlock huffs and picks at the food. Under Seb's tiger like stare, Sherlock submit and eats the food.

"Thank you. " Seb smiles slightly and eases back. Sherlock forces himself to eat slowly for the sake of his suffering system. Seb is watching as though it meant his life, and in a way, Sherlock's recovery did. Sherlock can feel the weight of Seb's stare into him, and it causes the detective to look up and meet the eyes of the sniper. "What is it?" Sherlock asks quietly. "Just making sure you're okay. " Seb isn't lying but he isn't saying the full truth. Sherlock blinks, wondering what brought this on, this protective nature in Seb. Sherlock with all his brilliance, couldn't figure out the sniper, or his true intentions. Or consider that Seb actually interested in him. Sherlock, intentionally or not, was holding Seb at an arm's length to protect himself to not repeat what John had done. Not that Seb minded, he preferred not to get too personal if the detective were to be killed in combat. At least that's what Seb tries to keep tell himself. But the truth of the matter was the detective was a source of fascination to the sniper. What that meant at the moment, Seb wasn't exactly sure. It worried him a little to be frank.

Seb shifts in his seat with grunt. Sherlock smiles slightly as he had finished the food. "Thank you." Sherlock's voice is soft and genuine. Sherlock gets up slowly to go shower away of the rest of the soreness. Sherlock cranks the heat up as much as he physically can tolerate. the detective rests his forehead against the wall of the shower to let the heated water drip over his pain, both physical and emotional.

Meanwhile, Seb tries to shake the ache for contact that was stirred by Sherlock. He didn't want it. He couldn't have... Could he?

"Bloody hell..." Seb groans softly and shakes his head to clear it.

Seb mentally kicks himself. The sniper was no more than an adversary, the right hand of the Consulting Criminal. How could the detective want anything to do with him? But the distance was nothing if not deliciously enticing. The one time Sherlock allowed Seb was close was when the sniper was forced to intervene.

Seb groans once again and rubs his face. 'Stupid! Stupid! Why do you do this?! You just have to be attract to the dark haired-odd-smart-eccentric-batshit type!' Seb mentally yells at himself. 'Did you learn nothing from Jim? Pretty-dark-haired-psycho-boys. Devils dressed as a daydreams. Don't make the same mistake.' Seb groans. 'There has to be something. Something bad that will put me off. Just anything!'

But Sherlock had done nothing to mistreat the sniper. Sherlock had made it clear that he had no intention of using or abusing the sniper. 'Even if he did...You wouldn't be able to leave...would you? You, you who have convinced yourself that you like it. You like the the pain. Jim coerced you into a codependent relationship and you couldn't walk away.... Wise up, don't let it happen.Not again.

Or was it already too late....?


End file.
